The Shape of Soldiers Hearts

by Farenheit141

David is an ONI Spartan, a cold killer. He meets Claire, a soldier who shows him a life beyond the pain. Now, to save everything he wants, he must fight everything he knew, and decide what price he must pay for his humanity- and his love.

6. Chapter 4:I Hardly Knew Ya

Chapter 4: …I Hardly Knew Ya

[07 April 2548]

[UNSC Wolfs Sun]

[1540 Hours]

ONI Agent Matthew Keller plopped down on the bed with childish abandon, testing its springiness. "Quite the room, David. Celsius really pulled some strings for you."

Celsius spoke up from the comm., her voice tart. "I didn't pull any strings. David's physical size necessitated the Officers grade cabin."

"Ooh, now isn't that interesting?" Matt had removed a clasp knife from his pocket and an apple from his bag. He stabbed the fruit with casual viciousness, tore off a chunk of the red skinned fruit, and stuck the whole blade into his mouth, almost cutting his tongue.

David eyed the fruit distastefully. "Captain Rousseau put me in charge of this special mission unit, Keller. Granted me complete authority over its personnel, tactics, support, the whole deal." He leaned against the desk. "I'm just wondering where that leaves you."

"Standing at your right hand, advising, observing, and reporting, in that exact order." Keller took another jagged slice of apple, chewing with his mouth open. "My only duty is to make sure that you don't fuck up between here and the landing zone, and from landing to extraction."

"And you would have the power to veto David's decisions if you believed that they would compromise the unit or its mission?" Celsius put in.

Keller shrugged. "For the greater good." He shivered, smiling idiotically. "Ooh, I love using that phrase. It's so much nicer than simply saying 'fuck you' to someone."

David returned the smile humorlessly. "Typical Bristow."

"He just wants what you want David. And in this case, both of you want to kill a lot of Covenant soldiers in a short amount of time. He's just making sure you follow the right path." Keller tossed the half eaten apple into a corner, wiped his mouth, and closed the switchblade. "Now, on to the business of today. Show me the operators you chose."

David picked up the dozen or so files he had selected from nearly sixty candidates. Matt accepted them gracelessly and thumbed through them, eyes disinterested.

"Hmm, interesting. Ooh, now that's tickling me pink." He tossed the most of the files on the bed and started on the first. "Douglas Sax, Staff Sergeant, Army LIDAR veteran." He glanced up curiously. "Don't they call those boys 'The Scanners'."

"Yeah."

"Okay then, this particular Scanner is trained in demolitions and small unit tactics. Two tours, distinguished service, and a handful of medals. Cookie cutter specialist. Perfect."

He tossed the file aside and picked up the next. "Airman First Class Hannah Dietrich, Air Force Commando. Relative newcomer, only one tour under her belt, no medals. Trained in advanced field medicine and first aid, glowing commendations from her training staff." He flipped the dossier and showed the Airman's picture to David. "And so cute to boot, David. The crew cut turns me off a bit, but I think it gives her a nice 'tom boy' look."

David favored Keller with an expressionless expression. Keller took no notice as he thumbed through the third dossier.

"Lance Corporal Carson Wheeler, technical communications expert and advanced reconnaissance, survival, evasion, and resistance specialist. Supposedly the only survivor of a platoon of ODSTs who landed to engage the Covenant on some small planet. Five days on his own, the only scratch being a mild touch of malnutrition." Keller grinned. "I feel like I have competition here, David."

And so it went. All twelve dossiers, filled with insane and annoying quips on Keller's part. David could have tuned him out easy enough, but he didn't. Keller was sociopathic and insane, but through no fault of his own. David was very much aware of whose fault it was. The mere fact that he shared in this knowledge, and still managed to smile in Keller's emotionless eyes, caused him a great deal of pain. This pain wasn't physical, but went deeper than that; it ate into a foreign entity that occasionally invaded David's mind in moments of self-doubt.

A normal person might have called such an entity a 'conscious'.

So that was why he suffered through Keller's quips

Because you know that deep down in places you don't discuss with soon-to-be-barbecued ODST's at a mess hall table, its your fault that your only friend is psychotic mess who would as soon kill you as look at you, depending on his fancy.

Thanks for the reiterating exactly what I know. Why don't you recite the A,B,C's for me next? He spat back viciously.

The voice inside his head snickered. This public service announcement was brought to you by Humans-Against-Psychological-Conditioning Society. Have a nice day.

Keller jumped up and tucked the files under his arm. "Well, that about wraps it up. I'll take these to the Captain and reel in your new batch of meat puppets. They'll be here by morning, so let's call up a Boy Scout meeting at, say, 0930 hours tomorrow?"

David eyed him dubiously. "What happened to me calling the shots?"

"Oh, fuck sticks, David, you've caught me micro managing. I really got to learn to stop doing that, don't I? Well, just feel free to call the meeting whenever you feel like it."

David nodded wearily, cradling his face in his hands. "No, no, just call the meeting for 0930 tomorrow. And get some rest while you're at it. And no, that's not an order. That's just a suggestion coming from a Petty Officer to a Lieutenant Junior Grade."

"Suggestion noted. Anything else?"

"Yes. There are four more names you need to round up- a squad of ODSTs I worked with back on Agricola."

"Oh-ooh, do I detect a soft spot here?"

"They're a good bunch, that's all."

"And their particulars…?"

"Squad 2-Bravo, Bravo Company, 1st Battalion, 105th. They're on this ship right now, so hunting them down won't be too hard. Look for the Sergeant. Woman named Avalos."

Keller blinked- a glitch in his façade, click, then it was gone- and nodded. "Alright." He opened the door and bowed himself out of the room, eyes deceivingly humble. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

It took David a few moments after Keller left to realize that he didn't know if the psychotic Lieutenant was even billeted on the Wolf's Sun. Sighing in vexation, he crashed onto his bunk, detesting the warmth left from Keller's body. He rolled over and stared at the ceiling, drumming his fingers against his chest.

Keller being here would complicate things. The added bonus of his being Bristow's eyes and ears during this incursion didn't help either. David knew Bristow, knew his works, and knew that what Captain Rousseau had said earlier was at least partially true. Bristow was no saint.

And he's always the first to admit it, David thought, feeling the old admiration for his commander well up in him. The man wasn't afraid to do the dirty jobs, the jobs that if made public would make humans feel ashamed of being human, but at the same time he also knew these jobs were necessary. He had the conviction to get these jobs done, but didn't retain a zealots single minded fanaticism. When he briefed David and his other operatives about missions to assassinate, bomb, demoralize, and terrorize the Covenant, it was always with a faint tinge of irony. It was like he was telling his men, This is what he have to do, in the present; but this is not what we will be doing when our backs aren't up against the wall.

This is not what we will be doing when life is worth living again.

If David could have made everybody understand that, he would have. But even with all his reading and his intellectual thoughts, he couldn't explain it, so he set his face and let people talk about his commander- his father- in the way they did. Soldier on, never yield, just like Bristow had taught him.

David yawned, checked the clock on the wall. It was a quarter to 1600 hours, by the arbitrary ship time. Suddenly David wanted to get out.

He lithely sprang up. "Celsius, by chance did you requisition some…?"

"…work out clothes from the quarter master? Of course. I'm nothing if I don't attend to my Spartan's every need in and out of combat."

David smiled sweetly at the ceiling. "Thanks, mom." Crossing over to his locker, he opened it and drew out a sleeveless T-shirt, a pair of black shorts, and white sneakers from the contents. He changed quickly, left his room, and sauntered down the corridors in the direction of the weight room.

He met many crewmen along the way, and felt more than a few pairs of eyes take a second glance as he passed. He repressed a smile. Tall, dark haired, pale, and built like a Renaissance statue. Not a common sight, by any standards.

Even more eyes turned towards him as he entered the ships weight room. At least two dozen servicemen, ship crewmen and ODST's alike, were working out at the various stations, with pulsing rock music from the rooms built in sound system mixing with the clanks of metal and grunts from the soldiers. All eyes turned towards David as he entered. He paused in the entrance, placed his hands in his pockets, and stared back coolly, surveying the crowd before him. All the faces were strangers to him, and vice versa. The music continued, but it seemed like an awkward silence suddenly permeated the room.

Suddenly someone shut off the music, completing the silence and raising the awkwardness to a new notch.

"Good afternoon." David said. His overture fell on deaf ears and staring eyes.

David glanced behind him, and noticed that solid line of soldiers had formed behind him. A slight smirk touched his lips.

One soldier detached himself from the line, a hulking individual dressed only in a pair of long gray sweat pants. His chest and arms were bulging with muscles, and sweat shone on his dark crew cut. Black eyes studied the Spartan behind blunt, square cut features, and he finally offered his hand to David. "I'm guessing you're the Chief?"

Schaefer. So this was the relatively soft spoken ODST he had met back on Agricola. He accepted the bone crushing grip with his own hand. "I am. And I'm guessing you're Schaefer. It's nice to meet you face to face."

"And not in a war zone for that matter." Schaefer turned back towards his fellow soldiers. "It's all right, guys. The Chief here means no harm. Go about your business."

Evidently his word carried weight in the weight room, because everybody let out an unconscious shrug and turned back towards their exercise, some muttering to themselves. The music started up again, as loud as ever.

"Hmm, I've never had that kind of reception before." David murmured.

"Most people here have only heard of a Spartan," Schaefer said off handedly. "It's not a normal sight for them."

"I'd guess not." David nodded towards the hulking ODST. "Thanks for that."

"No problem." Schaefer looked disinterested. "But don't think this means that you're my friend, cause you're not. I've seen you in action, Chief, which is enough for me to respect you. On the same token, you're also a cold hearted bastard, which is enough for me to dislike you. Just so we understand each other…"

"Noted," David replied, voice arid. "See you around." He walked away as Schaefer turned his attention back towards his dumbbells.

[07 April 2548]

[Weight Room, UNSC Wolfs Sun]

[1622 Hours]

After eating lunch, and making friends with the Spartan, Claire had filed a few after action reports she had neglected of late, hung around the barracks, and finally dropped down onto her bunk and dropped into a light depression of sleep. She had hoped it would help ease her troubled thoughts, but did nothing but leave her feeling even worse when she woke up.

Friends with a Spartan. The concept was as alien as being friends with one of those squid chinned Elites. Claire was an ODST, damn it, she knew nothing about Spartans, except that they were mobile killing machines who were fifty percent machine, fifty percent killer. Hell, that was all anyone needed to know about them. Machines didn't have friends, and neither did killers.

And yet she remembered her words: So…does that mean…we could be friends? At the time it had seemed like a perfectly normal idea. David- the Spartan, the Spartan, damn it- was curiously disarming, the way he talked, the way he told the story of the Kamikaze Grunt. She had felt herself warming up to him…

Okay, stop right there, she chided herself. That was dangerous territory and she knew it.

Around 1615 hours, sick of being alone with her thoughts, she changed into close fitting shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt and made her way down to the weight room. An hour or so with the cycle and the punching bag, and she'd be too tired to think. That would be her best therapy right now.

She was surprised as she ran into a crowd of servicemen and off-duty ODST's, peering through the long windows overlooking the weight room. She spotted a familiar looking blonde head in the crowd, and tapped her on the shoulder. "What's going on Katy?"

Katy didn't bother to look back. Her voice was filled with awe. "He's in the weight room."

Claire didn't need to ask who 'he' was. She squirmed her way past a tall gangly Ensign and looked down.

David was in the far corner of the weight room, arms and legs pumping as he ran on a treadmill. His bare arms, pale and muscular, glistened with sweat. His eyes were set in a half glare, gazing into the middle distance as his mouth opened and closed to take in fresh gulps of air.

Katy appeared at Claire's side. "Impressive, isn't it?"

Claire didn't respond immediately. She watched as the Spartan reached out, cranked the speed up a notch, and pistoned his limbs into a blur as he sprinted for nearly a minute and a half. He finally set the treadmill to walking speed and put his hands at his hips. His broad chest, clearly defined against his gray muscle shirt, rose and fell as he caught his breath.

Claire shrugged and began extricating herself from the crowd, dragging Katy with her. "Impressive, yeah. But not enough to just stand here. C'mon."

"What, you're going down there?"

"Yeah, you and I have a date in the boxing ring."

Katy groaned. "Claire, the last time we did that, my ribs were black and blue for a week!"

"What's the matter, you want to keep your skin soft in the off chance someone decides to steal you away and make sweet love to you?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah. I'm imagining it'd be a certain seven foot tall super soldier with piercing brown eyes, a soft smile, and a hard…"

"That's far enough." Claire cut her off quickly. Katy grinned as she realized she had gotten under her Sergeant's skin.

The grin quickly faded as they entered the boxing ring, strapped on the practice pads, and Claire proceeded to launch a brutal onslaught of fists and feet into the boxing pad Katy held. Most of the blows landed on the pad, but enough missed their target (intentionally or otherwise) to cause Katy to flinch, cringe, and shudder. Claire sensed this frailty and laid on more pressure, increasing the speed of the blows until her arms and legs blurred.

Finally, Claire landed a kick onto the pad that had enough force to cause Katy to stumble back. "Goddamnit, Sarge," she gasped.

Panting, Claire managed a grin and undid the straps of her gloves to wipe the sweat off her forehead.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side, Sarge." Schaefer had wandered over to the edge of the ring. He tossed Claire a bottle of water, which she accepted gratefully.

"Schaefer, how long have you been in here?"

"Coming on to two and a half hours. Got to keep in shape, don't I?" Schaefer flexed his bulging bicep on his right arm as demonstration.

"Yeah, but there's such a thing as too in shape, Steroids," Katy teased, using a nickname Schaefer hated.

"Hey, at least I'm not the Sergeants punching bag over here." Schaefer grinned as Katy gingerly poked her ribs, flinching.

"Yeah, you're right. C'mon Claire, there's got to be someone better suited to this job." Katy glanced pointedly at Schaefer. The bulging ODST put his hands up. "No way, Jose."

"Ugh." Katy scanned the crowd in the weight room and her eyes lit up. "Ah, I've got it." She pointed towards the barbells, where David was quietly benching three hundred pounds in intervals.

Claire gave her a venomous look, but Katy took no heed as she cupped her mouth. "David!"

There was an audible clank as the Spartan lowered the barbell onto the rack. With remarkable grace, he rose from his bench and appeared beside Schaefer. "Katy. Schaefer." He nodded to both, and offered a small smile. "Claire."

Before Claire could respond, Katy had jumped out of the boxing ring. "God am I glad you're here! Claire here wanted to do some boxing, and we were wondering if you might be able to take over as-"

"- the Sergeant's punching bag? Yeah, I heard."

Katy raised an eyebrow. "You did?"

David smiled again, tapped his ears. "A good soldier's always observant. Semper Vigilans, always vigilant- that's ONI's motto."

Claire and Schaefer stiffened at the mention of David's enigmatic office. The Spartan took no notice as he strapped on the protective gear and took up the boxing pad. He nodded coolly towards Claire. "Whenever you're ready, Sergeant."

Claire gave him a strange look. "You can't be serious…?"

"Dead serious. What, you're afraid that you'll hurt me?" A devilish gleam had crept into the Spartan's brown eyes. "Because I highly doubt you will."

Claire stared him in the eye. "Alright then." She tied her hair back, strapped on her gloves, and launched into the assault.

She quickly found a few things out. The first was that David was a lot stronger than Katy; blows that would have sent the ODST Private stumbling glanced off the pad without a dent.

The second thing was that David was a lot faster than Katy. He moved his arms quickly, blocking all the blows, even those that would have missed the pad and hit him in the chin or the stomach. On impulse, Claire aimed a kick directly for the soldier's crotch, and he swatted her foot away with ease.

The third thing Claire learned came five minutes later, when, after going into overdrive for nearly a whole minute trying to get past the pad and actually land a blow on the Spartan (and failing miserably) she had collapsed against the ropes, panting. David grinned and tapped the pad with his free hand. "Well, now that you've got the hang of it, go at it with feeling!"

Claire favored him with a sour look as she caught her breath. "What…do you think…that was?"

"Practice." He dropped the pad, stripped off his boxing gear, and grabbed the water bottle to take a swig. Claire noticed that his arms, up close, weren't as big as Schaefer's. He looked more like a runner or a sprinter than a weightlifter, lean, but with clearly defined muscles.

David passed her the water bottle, and she accepted it gratefully. He watched her as she drank. "You know, you can tell a lot about a person by the way she fights."

Oh boy, Claire thought. "Really, you don't say?" She tossed the water bottle to Schaefer and crossed her arms at her waist, staring evenly back at the Spartan. "So what can you tell about me?"

David wiped his face with the back of his hand and considered his words carefully before responding. "You studied UNSC Marine Corps Martial Arts, and became very proficient in it. But you became proficient at your own expense, under somebody else's tutelage, which would explain the chip on your shoulder, and why you use the Martial Arts with such disdain while boxing."

Matt Keller had taught Claire the intricacies of the MCMA. Score one for the Spartan. Her face remained impassive. "Is that it?"

"No, no there's a lot more. You're a headstrong person, because you immediately go on the offensive and don't let up. You're smart, because you know how to throw a good punch, and you're strong, because you know how to throw a hard punch. You're graceful, because you can easily switch between punching and kicking without losing your center of balance. You're also fast, because your cyclic rate of punches was on par with a Spartan trainee- just so you know."

Claire smiled ruefully, then reached for her towel. "Well, if that's it-"

"But at the same time," David cut in. "You're also impatient."

"Really?"

"Really. You're impatient because you attack full force right off the bat without analyzing your opponent, hoping to just overwhelm him with speed and power. You've got a temper, because you quickly became frustrated when you couldn't get past my defenses." David shrugged, lips set but eyes gleaming with a hidden smile. "You have talent, but little control. I'd be curious to see how you'd fare in a fight of attrition."

Claire was hot, bothered, frustrated that she couldn't strike a blow against this smug Spartan, and now flushed. Not exactly the therapy she had been looking for. "A fight of what?"

"A fight to outlast your opponent. You have speed and flexibility, but how's your endurance?"

Claire snorted. "And you have endurance?"

David smiled fully, showing gleaming white teeth. "Yes I do."

He was goading her to fight, they both knew it. And Claire was only slight bothered that she took the bait so willingly. She threw down her towel and wiped the sweat off her chin. "Alright, let's do it. One on one, right here. No gloves, no pads, just martial arts. See who can outfight who." She glanced towards Katy and Schaefer, who were eyeing her as if she had gone crazy. "Is that alright with you two?"

Schaefer shrugged and looked away, as if saying it's your funeral. Katy's brow was furrowed; she appeared to be undergoing some kind of mental struggle. Finally one side won out, her face cleared, and she nodded. She nudged Schaefer in the ribs. "'To Be Loved'?"

Schaefer nodded. "'To Be Loved'". He made his way towards the weight room's sound system as David and Claire began stretching, keeping their eyes on each other.

David tried to ignore the fact that he was about to fight a much smaller, much more feminine ODST. When he won (not if he won, no question about that)there could be serious consequences. A room full of sweating, panting ODST's and crewmen might not take too kindly at having their fellow beaten by an obviously more skilled outsider…

David was distinctly remembering the infamous incident that happened over fifteen years ago: Spartan-117 versus four ODST's. That hadn't ended well; ODST's hated Spartan's almost on principle. And he was surrounded by Helljumper's…

Too late to back out now. Goddamnit.

Claire was trying to ignore the fact that she was about to go hand to hand with a Spartan. Not just any seven foot tall, half kilo Spartan, but a Spartan who had gone hand to hand with a veteran Spec Ops Elite, and won.

A Spartan who she had also brushed off after he tried to kiss her.

That queasy feeling, the knowledge that you had just willingly put one foot into your grave, took hold of Claire's gut. She forced the feeling down with some success.

The music over the speakers suddenly changed. Raw guitar rhythms collided with the interval drum beat, creating a vicious fast paced symphony. David liked it immediately. Appropriate, he thought. "You ready?"

Claire rolled her neck in its socket and nodded, eyes clear. "Let's go."

Both immediately dropped into combat stances and circled each other for a few seconds. The Spartan made no move to attack, simply studying her with cold brown eyes. In a flash, Claire decided to immediately go on offense, figuring he wouldn't expect an all out onslaught, and overwhelm him before he had a chance to counter.

With that decided she suddenly lunged forward with a feint, dodged right, and struck out with her left hook. David swatted it aside, eyes expressionless, and backed away, trying to put distance between them. She pressed forward, arms blurring as she tried right hook, left hook, uppercut, stomach blow, then elbow jab. None of them landed as David blocked, dodged, and finally countered the last, grabbing her left arm and swinging her effortlessly onto the ropes behind him.

Claire stayed where she landed, catching her breath. In front of her David smiled as he shuffled his feet. "Given up yet?"

Claire matched the smile with her own, rose up, and shook her head. "Hell no."

Change of plans. Claire launched herself forward with what appeared to be reckless abandon. For three seconds she rained down blows against the Spartan's defenses before he countered a wild haymaker and got her into an arm lock-

-at which she promptly heel kicked his shin. As he gasped and took a step back in pain, she squirmed out of his grip, and as he looked up, landed a left hook on his cheek that caused him to stumble onto the ropes.

By now a small crowd had gathered around the ring, and a cheer went up as David grasped the ropes (most of the cheers, he noticed, came from ODSTs).

Claire nodded satisfactorily. The music continued, pounding higher and higher.

Finally David drew himself up from the ropes and turned back towards Claire. He used his thumb to wipe away some of the blood that was seeping from the corner of his lip, eyed it disinterestedly, and wiped it on his shirt. He looked up, brown eyes amused. "Alright, shirt off."

Claire was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

David used the corner of his own shirt to wipe away the rest of the blood. "You heard me. Take your shirt off."

An audible "ooh-ooh-ooh" went through the crowd. The male onlookers seemed particularly interested.

"Why?" She said incredulously.

David smiled. "Because I'd hate to get blood on both of our shirts."

And with that he stripped off his own T-Shirt, folded it carefully, and laid it on the ropes behind him. The female members of the crowd let out an audible gasp. He took no notice as he stretched his arms behind his back and lowered himself into a combat stance, eyeing Claire.

Claire stared for a moment too long. David's chest and arms were pale, but not as much as she'd thought they'd be. His musculature, however, that was what warranted the stare. His biceps had a proper bulge to them, his triceps had a hard line of muscle, his pectorals looked as hard as armor plates, he even had a 'six pack'. Combined with his dark hair and his dark brown eyes, he really did look hot…

That was when David took two steps' forward and launched a blow directly at her stomach. Claire woke up just in time to block the blow, barely so, and suddenly was on the defensive, trying to dodge and block the white fists. Shit! One got past her block and landed on her side. Her ribs felt like they cracked. The crowd booed as she stumbled back. Someone shouted. "Grow some backbone, Spartan! She's half your size!"

David waved away the comment. "Lady's choice," he retorted. "I'm just a punching bag that punches back." With that said, he stepped forward for another blow.

Crunch time. In the blink of an eye, Claire was off the ropes and dodged the punch. David wheeled for another strike, but Claire had stripped off her T-shirt, leaving her in her black sports bra. She caught his fist with her T-shirt and aimed a kick directly at his crotch. He stepped to the side, saving his manhood, and grabbed her bare leg with his free arm and slammed her to the floor. The wind was knocked out of her as she landed.

David stood back up, shaking the T-shirt off his fist. Claire rolled to her knee's and wheeled for a spinning kick that hit his ankle solidly and bounced off. He looked down, bemused, about to make a smug comment, when he had to suddenly go on the defensive when she got back up for a haymaker to the stomach region.

The two broke away from each other and moved to opposite ends of the ring, panting. David eyed Claire. Her face was drenched in sweat; her black hair had come down in disarray around her face. His eyes moved down from her face to her body, from her slim figure, with just the right feminine curve and a hint of muscle tone, to her trim belly. She caught him staring and he felt himself get warm in the face.

"See anything you like, David?"

Bait, he thought. He smiled in return. "Just an overconfident opponent, that's all."

She smiled in return. "I could say the same thing."

After that there were no more words. Back and forth they danced across the ring, punching, kicking, blocking, alternating offensive and defensive, one playing cat, the other mouse, then trading roles as they traded blows and bruised themselves black and blue.

David may have had endurance, and strength, but Claire was a small target, fast and furious as she would pummel him with blows and scamper away, forcing him to follow her. In a moment of lucidity he reflected on the parallels between this fight and a tango between two dancers, and smiled inwardly as he realized she was the leader in this one. Claire saw the smile, mistook it for smugness, and tried to discombobulate him. David blocked the left hand, missed the right, and was rewarded with a bruised ear. He returned the favor in the form of an elbow jab that connected with the side of her head, and a successful wheeling kick that knocked her to the floor. She rolled away as he tried to land the finishing blow. She was on her feet in a flash, eyes blazing and chest heaving. David paused, glanced at her chest, and suddenly realized that beneath her sports bra, her nipples were hard and erect.

That means one of two things: she's either cold, or sexually aroused.

Which one do you want it to mean, Davy Boy?

"URRRRAAGGHHHH!" Claire drew her upper body back and launched a heel kick that hit David squarely in the diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him. He stumbled backwards, coughing, and caught himself on the ropes.

Claire took a step forward and launched herself into the air, drawing back her right fist to deliver a coup de grace on David's right cheek. The Spartan felt time slow as he watched her fly towards him. His thoughts raced.

This is going to end badly.

First option: take the right hook, probably fracture my jaw, maybe knock me out, depends on how tired she is and how much energy is in the punch.

Second option: rise six inches off ropes, arrest right hook with right claw jab, left hand, go for throat, but gently, she's breathing hard. Use her forward momentum; turn one-eighty degree's to pin her on ropes. Summary: flying fist arrested, coup de grace failed, but opponent remains conscious and relatively unhurt.

Ah, fuck it.

David rose from the ropes just in time to catch Claire's right fist in his own massive claw. His left hand lashed out, grabbing her neck, and he allowed her forward momentum to propel her- still in his grip- onto the ropes, where she squirmed and grunted, trying to break free. David let go of her throat and pinned her left arm while his left foot deftly maneuvered the lower ropes to trap her legs, essentially paralyzing her.

Attack neutralized.

The cheering crowd, almost in a frenzy as Claire jumped in the air, was now deathly silent. Neither of the combatants in the ring noticed. David's face was inches from Claire's, and she could count the sweat droplets lining his forehead. His eyes were no long glaring, but wide and bright, trying to absorb everything they saw before them. Although he gripped her arms tightly, his touch was soft against her hot skin. His breath was warm against cheek. Claire could feel a warmth spread through her body.

David leaned slightly closer, lips trembling. Deep down in his mind, where years of training and conditioning had failed to manifest, he felt an animal instinct call for him to kiss her. Then quite suddenly he was conscious of the dozens of eyes on him and the ODST sergeant, and he broke off. "Pinned ya," he whispered.

"Yeah." Claire whispered back. Her voice was husky. David helped her up and looked around. The crowd of soldiers was blatantly staring, not with hate or fear, but with frank curiosity.

"Right," He said, his voice strangely loud in the silence. "That's it." He eased himself out of the ring, helped Claire out, and then shook her hand, grabbed his T-shirt, and walked out, dabbing at the cut on his mouth as he went.

Claire was left standing in the crowd who promptly turned their attention to her as the Spartan left. The warmth she had felt had not quite faded yet.

Suddenly Katy and Schaefer began clapping, and everyone else quickly followed suit. The two ODSTs dragged Claire into the center of the ring, raising her arms in celebration as the crowd cheered.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we present to you: Sergeant Claire Avalos, the only ODST to go hand-to-hand with a Spartan, and live to tell about it!" Schaefer roared.

No one seemed to care about the comment; they were just interested in cheering.

Claire managed to plaster a smile onto lips that would not smile unaided. Her body settled into numbness as the warmth left her, and while she heard the cheers, her mind kept repeating the words

Pinned ya.

Those words had never sounded so provocative (sexy) in her ears as when the Spartan had uttered them.

Nobody noticed, in the corridor above the weight room, the tall, bearded blonde man standing in the crowd. ONI Lieutenant Matt Keller had watched the fight with great interest. He had kept his eye particularly on Claire.

After the fight ended, he had sauntered out of the crowd, in the general direction of the bridge. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were dancing with a curious light, as if he was playing a joke on the entire universe.

Beside him, Volkov's ghost fell in line. He looked even worse for wear; his body must have found an asteroid field somewhere, because massive, ugly gashes and bruises lined his arms and face.

So, it appears your girlfriend- ahem, former girlfriend- has found new spark in David.

Yep.

Keller's smile grew wider.

Oh, life has just gotten so much more interesting now.

[08 April 2548]

[Tactical Command Center, UNSC Wolfs Sun]

[0930 Hours]

The order had come over the comm. a half hour ago.

Attention! Will Sergeant Avalos, Corporal Atwood, and PFC's Schaefer and Rawlings report to the Tactical Command Center immediately? Thank you.

Claire didn't have much time to ponder on the nature of this order, or why somebody would want her squad to be in the TCC. As soon as the four had met and entered the TCC, they discovered they were not alone.

At least a dozen individuals of various ethnicities and affiliations were already inside the Center when they made their arrival. Claire's practiced eye recognized uniforms from Army LIDAR, Air Force CRC, even a few other ODST's. She nodded tersely to a few people she knew by sight. Schaefer and Atwood began chatting with a few people they knew, while Katy walked over to the table in the center of the room and began looking over a pile of papers.

"Hey." The voice originated from behind her. Claire wheeled around, coming face to face with a lean, wiry man who was barely an inch above her. His lack of height was made even more obvious by his neatly shaved crown. His face had the strange scar tissue that only came from burn grafts, partially masked by a thick handlebar moustache. He offered a small smile. "It's been a long time, Avalos."

Claire returned the smile and grasped the mans hand. "Good to see you, Sax." The appendage was a cybernetic replacement for the one Sax had lost two years ago, when a volatile bomb he had been arming had gone off, costing him his hand, his hair, and almost his life.

That little incident hadn't deterred Sax in the least.

"How have you been, Sax?" Claire had worked with the demolitions Sergeant once before, and knew him to be a competent soldier, cool under fire.

"Ah, about the same." Rand rubbed his face thoughtfully. "I've been happier though. My damn scars hurt something fierce at night, so doctors prescribed me painkiller's. They mellow me out quite nicely."

"Huh, I'll bet." Claire stretched, then winced as she felt the bruise on her ribs tighten. After yesterday's bout in the ring with David, she had woken up with her sides black and blue and an ugly bump on the side of her head. Rand noticed her discomfort, and nodded wisely. "Hurting from your little one on one with the Spartan yesterday?"

"How'd you know?" she muttered, tentatively poking her side.

"Stuff like that is gossip. Good gossip spreads like bad syphilis. If you don't mind my asking, what were you thinking?"

I was thinking that I was pissed off and wanted to wipe that smile off his face, and almost ended up getting sweet nothings whispered in my ear. "I guess I wasn't." She said aloud.

"I'll say."

Claire stiffened. "By the way, Rand, why are you here? And for that matter, why is me and my squad here?"

"You answer that and you get a million dollars." A husky yet feminine voice responded. Rand and Claire wheeled to face a young woman, dressed in Air Force fatigues. Her hair was close cropped on both sides, giving her a tomboyish look that contrasted sharply with her wide brown-gold eyes, snub nose, and full lips. She smiled radiantly, displaying small, white teeth. "Airman Hannah Dietrich, Air Force CRC. Are you Sergeant Avalos, 105th ODST Division?"

"Yes, I am." Claire briefly shook Dietrich's hand and looked around. "So you really have no idea why we're all here."

"We have some idea's, just nothing definite." Dietrich deftly fit a toothpick in her mouth and began to expand on the subject. "Most common theory is that HIGHCOM is putting together a special task force, and they selected us for the line up."

"That doesn't explain my squad, though."

Dietrich shrugged. "If you're here, then you probably impressed the right person in the spec-ops sector."

The door slid open with an electronic hiss, and two men entered: David, and a second man who was nearly as tall as him. Claire noted, with faint satisfaction, that a visible cut was healing on the left side of his mouth. Look's like I did get in a good punch.

David nodded to the soldiers in the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, glad you could all make it." He clasped his hands together and made his way towards the front of the room, the shadowy figure tailing close behind.

"I'm Chief Petty Officer Spartan-009, field commander for the Asymmetric Warfare division, ONI Section-III." There was a murmur as ONI was mentioned. "You can call me 'Chief' or 'Petty', it doesn't really matter to me. You all probably have an idea of why you're here, so I'm just going to cut to the chase: a special task force is being put together, and you were the lucky few who were selected for the team. Everyone here is trained and experienced in a particular field of warfare, so all of you have something to contribute. Demolitions, field medicine, survival and resistance, the list goes on. Ere go, you are all here for a reason."

"Now I want to make something clear right now: this is an all volunteer unit. Just because we called you doesn't mean you all have to answer. That being said, serving under a Spartan on a joint ops unit can pay off huge dividends in the long run of your career, from quicker promotions to your choice of assignments. So, if taking on high risk, high reward missions against entrenched Covenant isn't your particular brand of poison, feel free to visit the mess hall, have your fill of half-edible chow, and we'll see you on your way. If not, then please, take a seat."

Every soldier took a seat. Dietrich nudged Claire and whispered, "See? Told ya."

"True that." She whispered back. David briefly looked up, caught her eye, and offered an almost unnoticeable smile. Click! it was there, then gone just as fast. Claire smiled back, then examined the papers in front of her. Among them was a document entitled "Intelligence Secrets Compliance".

David began speaking, his voice dry and casual. "The first order of business, then, is what our call-sign is. TORN VICTOR, T-V. Learn it, because that's the name of the people who will be fighting by your side. Second order of business is what being on this team entails."

"Captain Rousseau assembled this fleet operating on intelligence that a Covenant assault force is skulking around this system. As most of you already know, the Hydra system has twelve colonies, not counting the one we currently orbit, and if the encounter here is any indication to how big our target is, any and all of them could be at risk of invasion and bombardment."

"This, obviously, is where the fleet comes in. Rousseau is hoping that when we find this Covenant fleet, combat will be restricted to ship-to-ship brawls." David looked up. "Personally, I don't share the Captain's optimism, but he's prepared if things go south. That, is where we come in."

"Depending on the situation at hand, we'll be doing anything from advanced reconnaissance, direct action, hostile ship boarding's, hostage liberation, tactical retrieval. Basically any ground operation conducted under this fleet will start with us softening up the enemy any way we can. And on that note, I'd like all of you to look at the paper titled 'Intelligence Secrets Compliance'."

There was a rustle of paper as everyone shifted.

"It's basically a binding seal on all of your lips. If we come across any vital intelligence on our excursions, by signing this document, you are prohibited from speaking of said Intel outside of this unit. If you do, we will find out, and we will find you."

There was a smatter of nervous giggles that was quickly stamped out. David raised an eyebrow, then continued.

"Alright, counting me and my esteemed colleague on my right," He jerked his thumb over his right shoulder towards the shadowy figure, "TORN VICTOR is composed of eighteen operators. We'll be split into two teams, Victor-Alpha and Victor-Omega. Sergeant Douglas Rand!"

On Claire's left, Rand roused himself from his doze. "Yes sir!"

"I've personally reviewed your record, and in my opinion, there is no one more qualified to lead Omega. Eight lives are now under your command. Respect that."

Rand grinned sheepishly. "Yes sir. Extremely honored sir." He turned beet red as a small burst of enthusiastic applause erupted from the other soldiers.

"Good. Now I'll lead Alpha. Team composition is listed on the second paper in each packet. I suggest you learn the names of your teammates, ladies and gentlemen. We have only a vague idea of how long this operation will take, anywhere from two weeks to three months. Ah, another thing: this is a diverse unit. If any of you have any bias against anyone else here, get rid of it. I don't care if you think your military branch is better than the guy next to you, I don't care if you're a racist. We don't have time for petty shit like that." He faced the line of soldiers. "Have I made myself clear, TORN VICTOR?"

"Sir, yes sir!" came the unanimous response.

"Excellent. One final thing." He motioned for the man behind him. "This scary bastard behind me is…"

"Yes, yes, yes," the shadowy figure interrupted. Claire inhaled sharply.

She knew that voice, could place it anywhere. That voice instantly brought her back to Claire Avalos, high school student in central New York.

The voice continued. "Ah, I don't deserve an introduction. No one wants to hear about another ONI assassin, David." The man stepped into the circle of light haloing the table, and Claire covered her mouth.

It was Matt Keller, her Matt Keller.

Later on, she reflected that what shocked her most was not that he was in ONI- she always had a sneaking suspicion that's where he slunk off to after leaving the 105th- but how he looked. Before, he had been tall, lean, muscular, sun burnt, with close cropped blonde hair and laughing blue eyes.

The Keller that stood at the head of the table resembled nothing of what she remembered. The hair was still close cropped, but was now complemented with a thick beard that covered the lower half of his face. He looked leaner than before, and even taller, making him look both comical and somehow menacing. His skin was pale, washed out. His face was lined, his eyes were sunken, and he looked very much like a man in his forties. And his eyes- they were no longer laughing. His eyes were flat, dead, expressionless as he looked her full in the face.

Matt licked the side of his mouth, like a lizard would lick his eyeball, and continued speaking. "That is, of course, what I am. Lieutenant Matthew Keller, former ODST, ONI team leader, and now freelance operative wrangler." He spread his hands on the table and leaned forward, his face looking like a skull under the harsh white light. "And now I can add on-site specialist to my resume."

David sighed. Claire, turning her attention to the Spartan, realized with a start that he knew Keller.

"Lieutenant Keller is my colleague at ONI. Previously he served as a non-commissioned officer in the 105th ODST Division. He was originally an operational detachment leader in ONI Division-I, but he and his team were captured and held as POW's for nearly six months. This experience gave him plenty of insight into Covenant tactics and language. He'll serve as a tactical advisor and interrogator in the off chance we get any prisoners."

Keller visibly rolled his eyes and smacked his lips. David turned. "You disapprove, Lieutenant?"

"No-oh, not in the least. I'm just tickled that you think we'll actually get any prisoners."

"Hmm, right." David rubbed his face and chin, then shrugged. "That covers the gist of why we're here. Everyone here has been assigned quarters on the Wolfs Sun, which you'll find on the back of the last page of each packet. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to take it up with me, Sergeant Rand, or Lieutenant Keller." David looked up, smiled. "Off the record, I'm glad no one decided to head for the door. Just out of curiosity, how many of you here have seen a planet get glassed before?"

Everyone in the room raised their hands, Claire, Katy, Schaefer, and Atwood included.

"That's what I thought." The smile faded. "What this task force is, what it represents, is the deterrent that will stop the Covenant from glassing another planet. We are that deterrent, so the next time these psychotic aliens try to invade, we'll be there to tear them apart before they know what hits them. Captain Rousseau has authorized all types of support for us: small arms, transport, air strikes, infantry reinforcement, vehicle drops- but all of that means nothing if we don't have the drive to get the job done. All of that means nothing if us soldiers lack the heart to do what is necessary. Remember that." David looked around. He had full command of the room. "Any questions?" No one answered. "Alright then, dismissed."

As the soldiers began to get up and disperse, Claire managed to catch Katy's eye. Her look was just as shocked as Claire felt. "Claire…" she whispered helplessly.

Claire ignored her. She began making a beeline towards Matt, standing in a corner discussing something with David. She squirmed past a stocky female ODST, pushed through two Army LIDAR snipers, and reached the two in the corner. Matt had his back to her. David looked up, surprised. "Claire…?"

Before Claire could react, Matt wheeled, and the ugly gash under his nose split into an even uglier grin. "Claire baby, come here." And with that he dragged her close and planted a sloppy kiss straight on her lips. Behind them, Katy squeaked, Dietrich dropped her toothpick, and Rand muttered something intelligible.

Claire couldn't breathe. Matt's hot, wet mouth completely covered her own; she could taste the peppermint from the gum he had habitually chewed since high school. With it came back a flood of memories: classes, sports, dances, laughter, peace, not a care in the world- memories Claire thought she had firmly scrubbed from her memory.

Briefly she caught David's eye. The Spartan's jaw was clenched, his eyes were hard, and his lips were set in a garish frown. Confusion made his face look both beautiful and tragic.

At least Matt released her. She gasped angrily, drawing in fresh air and wiping her mouth. The bastards grin grew wider. "So glad to see that you missed me, sweetheart."

"Lieutenant Keller-" David ground out between clenched teeth.

"Don't bother yourself David, this isn't what it looks like. Claire and I are old friends- no, wait, I'm lying- more than friends, you see. She and I go a long way back. We were very…intimate, before I joined ONI."

They had never been intimate, at least, not in the way he was implying, but Claire found herself silent in her rage. There were so many things pissing her off at this one moment she couldn't find the words to single out any one.

David's look could have cut stones. "You realized you just broke the codes on fraternization. By right I need to report you, and Sergeant Avalos," he added brutally. Claire, instead of being cowed, found herself even angrier at the comment.

Matt shook his head condescendingly. "David, you wouldn't do that. It's not your style. Besides, since when do you care if I tongue an ODST grunt in front of you?"

That did it. Claire grabbed Matt's arm in a death grip, whispered in his ear, "Can I talk to you in private?" Her voice was icy.

He beamed. "By all means." He turned towards David. "Excuse me a second, David. Have to have a chat with my significant other."

David said nothing as they walked into the opposite corner of the room, but Claire could feel his eyes beam lasers at their backs. Once they were relatively hidden in the shadows of the far corner of the room, she took the opportunity to backhand Matt across the face. "You miserable son of a bitch!" she seethed.

Matt looked disinterested as he rubbed his cheek. "Ouch. See, it's a rookie mistake to immediately for the face. You want the person to feel it when you beat them, and slapping the face just disorients them, so that when you do start to put the screws in them, they actually…"

He was rudely interrupted by another backhand, this time across the opposite cheek. "Hmm, I can tell you won't listen to reason then."

"You walk back into my life like nothing's changed, after I don't see you for two years, and you decide you can kiss me like a love sick high school chump in front of my team and my new commanding officer? What THE HELL is wrong with you?"

"Eh, besides five months as a Covenant POW, being tortured and watching my entire team die right in front of me and being forced to euthanize my right hand man? Nothing."

Claire couldn't ignore that. Her anger took a backseat for a moment. "You were…tortured?"

Matt ignored her. He turned his head to the right and Claire got a good look at his right cheek. Under the beard, it was horribly disfigured, ugly welts peaking through the hair. "You see this? You want to now how I got it? Two Elites- Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum- are wondering how they caught my ONI team. They're wondering if there are other teams in the area. They keep asking me if I know if there are any more teams in the area. And no matter how much I tell them, "I DON'T KNOW", they still ask me, until Tweedle Dum finally snaps. So he dips his gauntlet in this weird chemical, and slaps me across the face with it. Incidentally, that was where I lost my first teeth too. You wanna see those?"

Claire was suddenly afraid. This creature, this…thing, wasn't Matt. Not the Matt she remembered. "I'm sorry." She mumbled.

"You wouldn't be sorry if I hadn't shown up here today. And that is the funny part of it all!" He cackled to himself.

"Christ, Matt, I didn't know! You ran off to ONI the second I showed up and things got complicated…"

"I didn't plan on running to ONI. Don't you know me Claire? Don't you know that I never have a plan? Do you think I planned on this?" He turned his head to the left, and Claire could barely make out a series of shiny white scars, barely visible against his beard, stand out on his cheek. "This all came from a master plan that got fucked up beyond all repair- just like any plan you have now will fall apart around you."

"Oh, God, not this 'no plan' bullshit again. Matt, if you're seriously still hiked up on that…"

"You're not listening." He was suddenly in her face. His eyes bulged out from sunken cheeks. He looked like a skull in this light. Claire shivered.

"You planned to find me and be with me in the Corps. That went straight down the tube, didn't it? You planned to hunt me down, didn't you? Well, you're still here. You plan on being in this unit, with your Spartan, and that will break down all the same…"

"He's not my Spartan…" she seethed.

"Then what about that bout in the ring yesterday? I saw you when he pinned you. You want him, Claire. You might be able to hide it from somebody else, but you can't hide it from me." He tapped the side of his head. "I know you too well for that."

Claire felt her shoulders sag. It was true, he did know her enough for that. Bitterly, she muttered, "ONI really changed you, didn't it, Matt?"

"Not really. Being a POW changed me. But ONI…ONI opened my eyes to the truth."

"What truth?" Claire spat.

"The hard truth, Claire," Matt murmured, taking a vice grip on her arm and shaking her. "The truth is that we're not holier than the Covenant."

"You're insane. When have you heard of Covenant POW's? When have you heard of torture…?"

"…When have you heard of human POW's in Covenant hands? When have you heard of torture? Hmm. Please, tell me so you can prove me wrong. So you can go back inside your conscious and tell yourself, its wrong, he's crazy, we humans are may be almost extinct, but at least we're more gentle than the aliens." He shook his head condescendingly. "I'm proof of it in itself. If something exists on one side of the spectrum, it has to have a counterpart on the other side of the spectrum. If I was tortured, then there's a Covenant POW being tortured for info by ONI right now."

Claire shook her head vehemently. "You're wrong."

He eyed her, a bit sadly. "You always were naïve. Do you even know what your precious Spartan-009 was doing on Agricola?"

The anger bubbled up like a tide of magma "He was hunting down some scumbag Elite who murdered innocent people, blew up human ships, and executed UNSC soldiers…"

"…And did David tell you that that is his exact job at ONI?" He seemed unperturbed by her furious expression. "What, don't believe me? Ask him yourself sometime. He wants you, just like you want him. He wouldn't have the sand to lie to your face, wouldn't want to see your pretty face crumple as you realize that he was just like the Elite he was hunting, that he was just like me: a monster."

Claire eyed him coldly. "You're wrong," she repeated.

He didn't seem to take notice. "Your life is so neatly regimented by your plan, by your preconceptions. All your rules and idea's keep you safe from anything too close to the truth."

"I have only one rule now, Matt: don't get involved with someone who's going to hurt me." She could feel tears prick her eyes.

Matt nodded sagely. "Then that will be the rule you'll have to break, to figure out what the hell is going on."

She looked at him, her former best friend, and said coldly, "I don't know who you are anymore."

"Oh, you probably never did. Now that's over with and done, what else is there?"

She slapped him, full in the face, dragging her hand to prolong the blow. In the quiet semi-darkness it sounded as loud as a gunshot.

She walked away without another word, eyes burning. She felt Katy wrap her arms around her in a loving gesture, heard Schaefer mutter something darkly, and felt anger radiate from David. Wiping her eyes, she looked up, only to see that David was glaring at Matt, who was rubbing his cheek as if nothing had happened.

"Excuse me. I'm going to go have a talk with Keller."

Claire grabbed his forearm as he passed. "No, David…Chief, don't. Please don't."

"Don't? He harassed you and obviously upset you. I don't care if he was your boyfriend or my colleague, I'm not letting him walk away while you…"

"David," she whispered. He turned to face her fully.

"Don't give him the satisfaction. Please, just…let's get back to work."

He didn't like it, she could tell by the look in his eyes, even if the rest of his face was controlled. But she could also sense that he wouldn't argue with her.

"Fine. As long as you're alright…"

"I am. Thank you."

He looked down. "You still have my arm."

"Sorry." She released his arm, her face coloring. Glad its dark.

Suddenly claxons began ringing. Everyone looked up in alarm.

"General quarters?" David yelled above the din.

"No!" Rand shouted back. "This sounds different."

The comm. blared to life, and Captain Rousseau's voice echoed over the din. "All personnel, we are on Combat Alert Alpha. Enemy ships have been spotted at Macedon. We are en route to intercept and eliminate. All personnel to their stations immediately! Task Force TORN VICTOR, report to the armory, double time!"

Keller smiled. "Ah, they're playing our song."

Claire grit her teeth.

This day cannot be this bad, this early.